Things Draco Malfoy Hates
by cosmictigress
Summary: Draco makes an amendment to his list of things he hates.


Draco Malfoy hated a great many things. In fact, he had a list, which he had so aptly and veraciously titled Things Draco Malfoy Hates (underlined twice to emphasize importance), neatly folded and tucked away in an old diary in his bedroom. If one were to come across that little book and flip through its yellowing pages, he or she would find a creased parchment, and he or she would see written on it a long series of items, one after the other. From a cursory inspection, the nosy person would observe that the penmanship slowly evolved as the reader's eyes moved down the list, from untidy scrawl belonging to that of a young child to slanting, cursive script that spoke of excessive arrogance and vanity.

It would become apparent to the reader, if he or she could be bothered to peruse the seemingly interminable list, that Draco's animosity was not limited to inanimate objects. The yellowed parchment sported several names, some of them prominent, for example: Harry Potter (somewhere at the top of the list, right after tomatoes), Ron Weasley, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, the Dark Lord (near the end of the list). The reader would also find that some of the items had been crossed out: coffee, bookworms, bushy hair, Mudbloods (the reader would have some trouble discerning this offensive word, which seemed to have been scribbled out purposefully).

For months now, the list had not had any edits - no additions, no cancellations, made to it; it seemed that its fractious owner had utterly forgotten about his lengthy documentation of things that succeeded in incurring his anger and displeasure. Little did it know that it would soon be extracted from its home in between the decaying pages of the diary.

* * *

Merlin, he hated Muggle clothing. The garments that were given to him clung to him, suffocated him, and hindered his movements. How could Muggles bear wearing such constricting things? He couldn't wait to be done with this chore of tracking down Muggles and rid himself of these strange habiliments.

Clutching a warm cup of coffee, Draco warily glanced about, checking to see if he was being spied on. Even hidden by dark shadows, one couldn't be too cautious; it would be embarrassing if someone were to witness his unsticking a wedgie. Once he was comfortable, he stepped out of the dark shelter of the Apparition Point and into the dazzling afternoon sun.

Shielding his sensitive eyes with his free hand from the bright glare of the midday sun, he ducked into the cool shade of a bus stand and searched the vicinity for his boss, whose name had been on his list since his first year at Hogwarts. His hatred for the bespectacled saviour of the wizarding world had diminished immensely, though not completely; he had hated the Gryffindor for far too long that even entertaining the idea of being anything more than civil towards the man greatly perturbed him.

So occupied was Draco with seeking unruly black hair belonging to Harry Potter that he completely missed a familiar figure, who, like he, had sought refuge from the hot sun at their rendezvous.

"Malfoy!"

He turned toward the voice and gaped, positively gaped (something that would soon join his list, in capital letters). If he had taken a large sip of coffee mere seconds before acknowledging the speaker, the dark beverage would surely egress from his open mouth in a manner not only unsightly but comical as well. With Herculean effort, he dragged his gaze away and eyed the Styrofoam cup in his hand suspiciously. Blaise must have added something into his coffee again for this luscious body before him couldn't possibly be attached to the unmistakeable head of -

"G-Granger?" he managed to enunciate, once he'd repossessed his wayward mouth. Apprehension clearly depicted on her countenance, she had stepped away from him during his intense scrutiny of his coffee. He wasn't at all surprised, or offended by her automatism; after all, he, with his mouth hanging open stupidly, had been glaring most ferociously at his cup for Merlin knows how long.

As Draco's gaze raked appreciatively over her form again, he concluded, with a good deal of delight, that he'd died. The escaped Death Eater he and his fellow Aurors were pursuing had killed him and he was now in blissful heaven, where, instead of the boring loose fitting robes Granger was so fond of, she donned Muggle clothing, and sexy ones at that: black leather trousers that had the joy of hugging her shapely legs, the curves of her thighs, her luscious derriere; the sheer silk top resting against her full, round breasts, its soft fabric caressing her silken skin.

Merlin, was he excited. A full day with Granger! Who was dressed in pretty clothes that intensified her attractiveness! What had he done in his past life to merit such, such – he couldn't put it in words, his brain had ceased functioning. The rest of him was fine, though one part of his anatomy functioned _too_ well.

Draco was suddenly very thankful and glad that she so favoured robes. The thought of Granger traipsing around the male-dominated Auror department in similar Muggle attire was highly undesirable. If she, in plain, baggy robes, had already many admirers (he being one; needless to say, the rest were on his list), then imagine her adorned in slinky garments. The ever-protective Potter and Weasley (and he, though he acted out of possessiveness) would have to fight off scores of amorous men.

"Good job, Malfoy, you dress just like a Muggle. Try not to stare too much, it freaks - Malfoy! Are you listening to me? Ugh, Harry owes me big time! Two dinners at the Dorchester, Forrat's chocolates and a pay rise."

Jarred out of his reverie, Draco hastily smiled at Granger's little monologue and shook his head to dispel his perverse thoughts. He made a mental note to buy Potter a drink and to eliminate 'Muggle clothing' from his list.

* * *

**Let me know what you think and thank you for reading!**


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